Now I Know Why
by Hitsugi Zirkus
Summary: And as you laid on the bed, one of your arms outstretched as if reaching for me, I knew. I suddenly knew that the song I had played was for you. Somehow, without knowing it, my soul composed something for you. Elliot/Leo


**A/N: **Oh my PH, Elliot/Leo has taken hostage of so much of my brain it is not even FUNNY! -sweatdrop- Not necessarily a bad thing, but I'm neglecting my other fanfic series x'D (I'm sure to get flamed soon...). I tried to write something lighter for this pairing, but all I see ANGST, angst as far as the eye can see! -dies-

And I've no idea why I always write my Elliot/Leo fanfics in this letter format. With the "I"'s and the "you"'s... It seems to fit them, I can't help it. -stabbed-

-bows- Please enjoy.

**Now I Know Why**

When the melody first flowed from my mind, to my fingertips, onto the glossy piano keys, I remember thinking how sad it was. Inside, my chest was tight, and my throat suddenly dry, like this song was a sparkling glass of water and I had realized how parched I was. Each black note appeared behind my eyes, blooming like ebony flowers seconds before I played them on the piano. Had I heard this song before? How could I not remember something so sad?

Something, this song whispered like shards of glass, is broken. Something has been taken.

Looking back, it must've been a premonition; a warning. I never should've given you the song. Although I hadn't realized it at the time, this song, so beautiful and lamenting, was a curse.

The last note echoed in the music room of the House of Fianna, and I shakily let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. But with the release of that breath, I suddenly became aware of my accumulated audience: some of the orphan children were tentatively at my side, others peeking behind the doorway.

And then there you were, the closest one, right behind me. You were smiling in that dream-like way you always did when you were enraptured by music. Later on, I would find it very different form the concentrating frown you had when you read, or practiced your sword-fighting. I think that whenever we played music, or heard it, that was when you became most like a fascinated child, and also most like a mature adult.

"Hey," I said, breaking the silence, "you look like a moron." I reached up to lightly slap your cheek.

You scowled, but your usual short temper didn't flare up like it normally would. You were still lost in that song I played. "What was this piece?" you asked. "It's beautiful…and loving."

I frowned beneath my messy bangs, thinking that 'loving' hadn't exactly been the word to describe the song – whatever it was. I blushed and quickly shutting the case over the ivory keys. "So, today's the day, isn't it?" I asked, getting up. "When I go to the Nightray mansion?"

My evasion distracted you. "Yeah, but it'll only be for a few days until the break at Latowidge ends," you reminded. I mentally cringed again at the thought of going to a boarding school, with tight uniforms and higher-sphere classes that'll be meaningless to me.

Probably seeing the look on my face, you bonked my head. "Well, if you're all done here, our carriage is outside waiting."

"Patience is a virtue, dear noble," I mocked, earning me a glare. A tug on my sleeve had me look down at one of the young orphan girls I knew, named Helen.

"Big brother Leo, will you still come and visit us when you can?" she asked, imploring with her wide eyes.

I shifted in my seat awkwardly, not knowing how to respond. Under my bangs, I chanced a glance at you. It was as if you felt my stare and you answered, "My father and brothers often come to Sablier, so you'll be able to visit when you want." You shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly with a sheepish blush on your face. "Besides, it'd be a shame for them never to hear you play again."

Before it was time to set the lights off for the night at the Nightray mansion, you came into my room to make sure I had gotten my bearings alright.

I brought my knees up to my chest as I laid back against the huge pillows on my bed. "I don't think your family likes me very much," I remarked conversationally, looking over at you.

You were settled at the edge of my bed, a small smile on your face. "Since when do you care about things like that?" you asked, trying to lighten up the mood.

I shrugged. "If I'm going to be here, I don't want to attract hostility," I pointed out. Almost immediately I thought of my mother and father, and the villagers who hadn't cared for my existence. Wasn't hostility better than pretending that I wasn't even alive? At least with hate, my being was acknowledged.

"I like you, isn't that enough?" you huffed, flopping spread-eagled onto my bed.

I looked down at you, broken bits of you concealed with my dark hair, random missing pieces. Like Humpty Dumpty from the nursery rhyme. Slowly I traced my gaze to your face, your clean, clear blue eyes, tainted with nothing, staring straight at me. I looked away, barely able to hide my smile. "Sure, I think it is."

And really, it was the truth. One person was enough.

And not just any person. You. I think, had nothing tried to change, I would've been happy with just you looking at me, just your voice I heard, just you understanding me.

And then it all made sense. I came to a realization when I remembered.

It had been the day when you found me trying to kill that man who had tried to cut my hair. No, it wasn't my intention to actually kill him, but only to silence him; erase him. Then again, I suppose that IS trying to murder somebody. I wanted him gone for trying to take away my safety, my illusion.

You pulled me back, and I felt all of your strength on me. The man ran off, clutching his face where I had hit him – with what was it? I think I had grabbed a lamp. There was a thud as you pushed me to the wall. I was shaking, and we were both sweating and panting. I slid down to the floor, closing my eyes and trying to swallow the tears clogging my throat. You fell down with me, hands still gripping my biceps tightly.

"What…what is with you?" you rasped, tightening your grip on me.

"Elliot, that hurts," I managed to growl out, my voice rough as if I were still on a rampage. When I opened my eyes, I realized you were looking at me; actually looking AT me. Not the general area were my eyes would be, but into them. Some of my bangs had been brushed to the side, and one of my eyes was wide, staring back at you. You were fixated, gazing at me. I was sweating from my earlier breakdown, but more heat rose to my cheeks as I realized how suddenly naked I felt in front of you.

Before I could stop them, tears were burning me, sliding down my cheeks. "I'm sorry," I whispered to you. My voice was no longer strong, but broken. Something inside me was breaking. I couldn't figure out if it was a good or bad thing. It seemed like I had always wanted you to see me, but I was ashamed you finally had in this way.

We rose up from the floor as nuns and orphans entered the room, our arms tightly around each other – me holding onto you for dear life, hoping to erase the me I had just shown you; and you, keeping me together, making sure the 'something' inside me wouldn't completely break. Just like "she" had before. Just like "she" had always been "my" way of staying together.

And as you laid on the bed, one of your arms outstretched as if reaching for me, I knew. I suddenly knew that the song I had played was for you. Somehow, without knowing it, my soul composed something for you.

Suddenly, I could see how you heard it – the loving tone to the song. I heard it when I played it again at Latowidge a few weeks later. I was fervently trying to recall how to play it, how to finish it. Scraps of balled-up papers littered the floor as I wrote down each note, my fingers dancing along the piano's keys.

I hummed to myself, so, so happy as the melody continued to flow out of me. I heard the promises now, promises made beside a sunny garden, whispering the stories we knew. I felt the warm touch of skin, the embrace of your arms, holding me in one piece. I heard your kind, strong voice, keeping me so blissfully happy. It was all there in this song, and I was performing it, playing our emotions – _loving_.

"It came to me out of nowhere," I told you with a smile one day. "Remember the day I left the House of Fianna, there had been that piece I played?"

Your blue eyes flickered in recognition. "Oh yeah, I kept meaning to ask about it. Did you ever get to finishing it?"

I held out the sheets of music to you, neat with filled staffs of the song. "Yes, I…," My face suddenly seemed too hot, a flush staining my cheeks pink. "I wanted to give you something, since you gave me 'Statice.' Sort of a return gift." You took the piece from me in bewilderment, surveying it.

"It's called 'Lacie,'" I said.

You grinned, chuckling. "I thought you thought this was cheesy," you said, arching a brow at me. You nodded. "Thank you, Leo. Hey, the music room is still empty. Play it for me?"

I don't think I could've been any happier to.

I thought about the title, wondering why 'Lacie' was the name that had come up in my mind. Wondering why I felt my heart swell with rapture when I heard you hum the song I gave you as we walked down the hallways. Any other person would doubt that a simple song could hold so much power. But we had each created something for one another – we knew better.

And I always heard that loving tune.

This, of course, was all before the notes became out-of-tune, before the piano keys cracked and became stained with blood. Your blood. The crimson fluid tarnishing you everywhere, oozing out your broken body, broken just like Humpty Dumpty. Your eyes were closed, the blue skies of your eyes lost to me. You looked tired and worn out, as if you had just collapsed and fallen asleep. How un-noble of you.

I remember sobbing on your chest, crying out wantonly and not caring who heard me make these tortured, disgraceful howls of pain. I was shaking so much that even if you had been breathing, I don't think I would have felt you. I wouldn't hear that heartbeat. It was beautiful, dead, and bloody, just like you were.

The music would no longer reach our ears now.

That man convinced me to blame myself. But even without his words, I would know. I didn't stop you from leaving the House of Fianna, thereby getting yourself killed – because of me. As I forced that Chain's blood past your lips, I only thought about how much I needed you by me, how I'd be alone once you were gone. Who would understand me like you, like "she" once did for "me"? I didn't need him; I knew it was my fault.

It had been hell to almost lose you once. The agony of losing you twice to darkness and blood, by the same Chain, was a hot, jagged knife piercing my heart, my eyes and ears.

Keys wailed their laments as I played, crystal tears falling around me, cutting up my insides like you had been ragged to pieces. I couldn't hear the music like we used to anymore. Why would you break our promises, Elliot?

Why did you ever call this song "loving"?

* * *

><p><strong>Ending AN: **In case it wans't glaringly obvious (-stabbed-), the "she" constantly mentioned is Lacie. The quotation marks around "me" signify Glen's soul in Leo, screwing with his memories. I really hate Glen now... My hate just seems to shift alot -sigh-

Anyway, so I read on the PH wikia that Elliot had been for Leo as Lacie had been for Glen - you know, they were the ones who had truly cared for Leo and Glen, and always had them smiling. In the end, though, Elliot and Lacie die Abyss-related deaths, leaving Leo and Glen to mourn for them, respectively. THE PARALLELS! C'mon, how much more tragic can you get? But anyway, I just thought it was interesting...and it makes Elliot/Leo more implied for me since Glen and Lacie were LOVERS~~ -pushed off a cliff- I have no regrets...!

A review/critique would be lovely, as it means in an alternate universe, Elliot isn't dead, is living happily with Leo, and is making sweet love to him every night~ ;D (What? I make no sense! -goes away-)


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